


worship your body (make me prey)

by The_Wavesinger



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, FoeYay, Light Bondage, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-29 21:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/pseuds/The_Wavesinger
Summary: Dottie doesn't know whether she wants to fuck Peggy or be Peggy.





	worship your body (make me prey)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Froggimus_Rex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggimus_Rex/gifts).



> The title is taken (and pun-ified ~~I'm sorry~~ ) from Zolita's Holy.

It was completely and utterly not Dottie's fault. Peggy held a gun to Dottie's head, and really, what was Dottie to do? People holding guns to Dottie's head was something Dottie hated, even when those people were actually a singular woman by the name of Peggy Carter. Dottie had a lot of 'except Peggy Carter's, but a gun to her head was not one of them.

(Also, okay, fine. Peggy was really really hot when she took control like that, and yes, Dottie regretted having to escape in LA. She would have liked to poke Peggy a little more, see what she could do. But prison was boring and she didn't intend to put herself there for Peggy's sake a second time.)

But she kissed Peggy Carter.

Because Peggy was holding a gun to her head and telling her not to move, and Dottie didn't _like_ that. Hadn't she earned a little more trust from Peggy? Didn't Peggy know by now that whatever happened, Dottie wouldn't kill or permanently maim her?

When Dottie told Peggy that, Peggy's eyes narrowed.

Well, damn. That simply wouldn't do. She wanted Peggy—her trust, her desire, her _everything_.

So she kissed Peggy, hard and bruising, wrenching the hand holding the gun behind a back even as she surged forward, and Peggy—

Peggy kissed back.

Only for a moment, and then she pushed herself away and slapped Dottie straight across the face.

But the gun had clattered to the floor, and Peggy was shivering and didn't look displeased, so Dottie kissed her again. Harder, more thoroughly, probing demanding harsh, biting down on Peggy's lip until the faint iron taste of blood filled her lips. Hands up to Peggy's hair, and she _pulled_ , pulled that perfect silk soft hair she'd always envied, pulled at the bouncy perfect rich-looking curls she could never quite achieve, pulled until Peggy cried out and tried to retreat.

Dottie allowed that retreat (or rather, had to allow it, because in this as in all things, they were evenly matched, and if Peggy wanted to get away, truly, Dottie didn't know what would happen).

The next moment, though, she crowded into Peggy, pushing her against the grimy wall of the diry alley they were in, where Peggy had stumbled upon Dottie completely by accident. (Not completely, honestly; they were both looking for the same people, but Dottie wouldn't tell Peggy that quite yet, or tell her that she had more on them than Peggy did, because holding a gun to her head? There were hard feelings, and then there was...that. Which. How _rude_. Yes, Dottie sometimes didn't quite like Peggy at all when she was being annoying, but not enough to kill her. Not anymore, at least.)

Peggy's back hit the wall with an audible noise (and her silk blouse was quite nice; Dottie took pleasure in pressing Peggy extra hard against the brick so that it'd stain, a souvenir to remember her by). She was quite beautiful, really, even like this with her curls all astray from how vigorously Dottie had tugged at them, her lipstick smudged and her cheeks pink and blushing. Her eyes glowed in the faint light of the lamp spilling over from the street, and her hair was almost a halo about her head, and really, the curve of her neck was so biteable, it was a shame it was untouched.

Obviously, Dottie did the natural thing and bit down until there was a mark, sucking and pulling and worrying the skin between her teeth so that the bruise would come out purple and last for days.

(It was fascinating how easily Peggy bruised, how the colours bloomed across her skin and stayed there for days. Dottie usually preferred the careful application of fists in stamping her brand across Peggy's skin, but her teeth had the unusual benefit of sending tingling into the core of Dottie's body much stronger than the fists usually did.)

Peggy bucked beneath her, and that wouldn't do at all. With a little application of force she could gain the upper hand easily, and—

Oh. The blouse. Of _course_.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Dottie muttered under her breath, even as she unbuttoned Peggy's blouse.

“Yes, you are,” Peggy agreed, and—Dottie looked up, and was she _smiling_? Oh, that wouldn't do at all. Dottie hastily finished unfastening the top and pulled it back. Peggy complied easily (a little too easily—Dottie would watch for escape plans, make sure Peggy wouldn't run away too early), ragdoll-limp as she allowed Dottie to knot the blouse around her wrists.

(Her wrists were beautiful too, sturdy and thick and veined, wrists that could kill and maim easily. Dottie's own wrists were delicate, and she wanted the wrists Peggy Carter had, ladylike yet murderous.)

Then—

Then there was entirely new area of flesh to explore, unmapped skin she'd only ever glimpsed in fights or seen in her dreams. (She had tried, once, when she was undercover as a girl from Iowa, to get a glimpse of Peggy naked, but that Fry lady was annoying. It was damned difficult to sneak anything past her, and even making Peggy pass out—now that had been a kiss—had required meticulous planning.)

She kissed a trail down from Peggy's chin to the point where her underclothes met her breast, the skin of her cleavage tempting and delicious. Another mark there, because the plump flesh was just too hard to resist, and Peggy was writhing now, held by the wall and unable to escape, little panting sounds falling from her lips.

Which. Peggy was actually enjoying this, wasn't she?

And Dottie didn't know what to think about that—Peggy had to hurt, but Peggy loving what Dottie gave her was also good—so she bit down again, delighting in the gasp from Peggy. Her own breasts tingled sympathetically, and she pulled at Peggy's brassiere, freeing one tit from the confines of the material.

 _Oh_ it was a delight. The skin was mostly smooth, but there was a small scar which made Peggy shudder every time Dottie ran her finger over it as her hand continued the exploration of Peggy's body. Though the scar itself she had mixed feelings about; how _dare_ anyone but Dottie scar Peggy, but it marked Peggy as a fighter to match Dottie.

But either way, Peggy was gorgeous in how she shivered at Dottie's touch, responsive and beautifully dishevelled in a way it only usually was in the middle of a fight.

The temptation was too much, and Dottie pulled out Peggy's other tit. The picture was _obscenely_ delightful, Peggy's white silk blouse still wrapped around her wrists and her arms pulled back and restrained, the cloth of her brassiere bunched across her chest with her tits hanging out and nipples already peaked, with cold or arousal or possible both (and Peggy's enthusiastic reactions pointed to 'both' or 'arousal').

Dottie bent down to bite on the brown nipple, and—

A sound! A muffled squeak that was more mouse-like than human, but a sound, and that, Dottie decided, was an achievement.

The nipple gleamed wetly as Dottie detached herself to celebrate the achievement with a kiss. A chaste, teasing kiss, and Peggy _whined_ in frustration. The sound sent a jolt of warm electricity through Dottie's body, and she leaned forward again to kiss the not-really-smooth skin of Peggy's stomach.

And oh! A scar _she'd_ put there. Now _that_ was delicious, something of hers on Peggy's body. Not for all the world to see, because Peggy was _hers_ , her mirror and her foil and everything she wanted to be, and her marks were a secret between the two of them. Dottie bit down, burning the brand deeper, deep as her teeth could go.

Peggy's wriggling, now, had become decidedly impatient, and when she growled “Dottie,” her voice was throaty and broken.

“Beautiful,” Dottie murmured. And such beauty definitely deserved a reward. Like, oh, pushing Peggy to her knees and unbuttoning and pulling down her own trousers

And oh. _Oh_.

Peggy seemed to get the hint immediately, because she was tugging at Dottie's underwear with her teeth (and oh wasn't that an image to last for the next few years) and pulling it down to Dottie's knees still with her _teeth_.

Then: what came next Dottie could honestly never find the words for.

Peggy didn't tease. Instead, she just started gently licking and probing at Dottie's most intimate places.

It was—

It was intensely satisfying but also not, and Dottie fisted her hands in Peggy's hair, pulling her towards Dottie to make her go faster. Warmth pooled around her hips, and she could feel every small breeze across her skin.

Peggy alternated the licking with gentle sucking, now, concentrating her attentions in the sensitive mound of nerves just above Dottie's slit.

The warm wave of heat in her core expanded across her body until she was seeing white, and her nerve ends were trembling. And still Peggy sucked and swirled and did wicked things with her tongue, and it was so so much, and her entire body was shuddering. Anyone could have walked up to her and she wouldn't have cared in that moment (because PeggyPeggyPeggy, everything was Peggy).

And then it became too much, too shuddery, and it was over.

She pushed Peggy away, breathing the way she'd been taught to calm herself down and collect herself. Sex was good, but her employers did _not_ need to know that. And they didn't need to know about Peggy either.

Peggy was still sitting, dazed, on the floor, Dottie's juices smeared across her face and lips, her breasts still spilling out of her top, as Dottie straightened herself and turned to walk away.

But she did want one last word.

“Until next time.” And now, that was the honest truth, a truth without even the tiniest of seedlings of doubt in Dottie's mind, the doubt that had earlier been woven through her certainty of Peggy's regard. If this couldn't keep Peggy coming back, then nothing could.


End file.
